In an email this morning…
My Dear Mr Howell
It has come to my attention that my dearest “Nest of Vipers” has been spreading unfounded and damaging rumours about my taste in music.
I would like to go on the record now, and in front of my peers and by the good grace of God (which is a big call considering my
atheist/agnostic beliefs, and the fact that I tend to search out virgins and chooks for sacrifice by night while listening to Judas Priest within the confines of my dungeon while wearing my gimp-suit) that I have never considered myself to be a fan, or idolise the man (formerly known as) Michael Jackson, aka Whack Jacko, aka The Plastic Fantastic, aka The Babysitter You Don’t Want.
While I appreciate the fellow’s contributions to music, mostly in a ‘bubblegum’ sense, and as I have blogged about his impact on popular culture via his Moonwalk, the musician, not the man, has indelibly impressed me with some of his songs: these include, but are not limited to, Beat It, Thriller, Dirty Diana. If there are any others that come to mind I will make a concerted effort to make them know to you.
But as you can start to sense, from MJ’s extensive music catalogue I have merely pointed but three as having any form of impact on me emotionally. Percentage wise this surely must reinforce the fact that 3 from hundreds does not a fan make. Using the same formula, I really only like three of U2’s songs, and actually would go so far to say I even prefer MJ over them. Read more…